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Bad Place for a Call
"Good day to you, Mr. Andromidas." The face and figure of the formerly disappeared Ambassador Delgard sits, poised atop a stool. Her eyes appear more sunken, shadowed, cheeks a touch gaunt. "I am sending this message on behalf of the Republic, off the record, but moreso due to soon-to-pass events surrounding Caspia's immediate future." She clears her throat. "I thank you for your service thus far to the Republic, but I am requesting that you and your crew abstain - at least for a time - from participating in any raids on supply runs. The CSA will be managing a relief flotilla - some ships may resemble the Imperial class - delivering humanitarian supplies to Caspar and the other inhabited worlds in system, as per the Empire's dictation. We must allow these ships to pass, unfettered, and conduct their business accordingly. Chancing a raid on any of them will assure that the next fleet sent consists of ISDs and other ships which would pose threat to our military effort in repelling the Imperial fleet." A long pause, while she allows the viewer to absorb what's been said, then "I understand this may impact your finances, laying low, under the radar for a time - at least out of that system - and for that, I am willing to compensate, if it ensures that no more trouble befalls humanitarian shipments throughout the Caspian system. My daughter and I have lost everything we own, during the fire and raid on our embassy. As such, funds are limited. I am prepared to offer you 30,000 cred, however, to cease all raiding activity in the Caspian system...if in fact, you are still a participant. Consider it a paid vacation. If you accept these terms, you may contact me at terminal 21-83-2947. I will transfer funds to the same account number as last time, unless directed otherwise." And, just like that, the vid feed cuts out. Much time later..... The com-link clicks on, video and audio. Jaspar is leaning on the terminal, in what appears to be the back-room of a... night-club? Nar Shaddaa, maybe? "Ambassador Delgard. A pleasure--" Jaspar begins, adopting a businesslike intonation, and smiling weakly. BANGBANGBANG! The door to the room, apparently locked, nearly buckles against the onslaught. "--as always, to speak with you." "Come on, buddy! I gotta put creds down. The swoop race is about to start!" comes a gravelly, porcine voice. "..We of Andromidas Galaxy Logistics understand the current--" BANG. BANG. BANG. "--circumstances, and see no problems agreeing to your request." Jaspar looks to the door, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head, before returning to the conversation. His tone switches to a more personal, hushed tone. "The Republic's been good to us, Ambassador, and the last thing I'd want.. we'd want.. would be to worsen things." BANG... BANG... BANG. "Tell your slam-piece to hurry it up, and clear out of there before I come in there and wring your scrawny neck!" The porcine voice butts in. "Yes, the details remain the same." Jaspar continues, pausing briefly. "My crew and I will abstain from participating in raids on supply runs, as requested. Safe travels. Andromidas out." At that instant, before Jaspar can properly terminate the call, a Gamorrean barges into the room, grabs Jaspar by the neck, and slams his face into the terminal, inadvertently hitting the 'disconnect' button. The vid-link blips out.